King Cedric the Great
by TheWayHome
Summary: One-Shot of the life of King Cedric. Dark, sad and angsty. Please let me know what you think!


I am currently working on a much longer story featuring Sofa and Cedric but this One Shot would not leave me alone. I feel like it could be fleshed out a little more someday, perhaps I will but I needed to get this out of the way so I would concentrate on the other. :) I was inspired by the enormously talented Jessibelle811 and her story "Foretold" (seriously go read it). I wanted to explore Cedric gone bad. So here it is, let me know what you think.

 **King Cedric the Great**

In the end, he hadn't needed the amulet at all. He had just needed time. With study and effort, he had truly become the most powerful person in the known lands. All that remained of those who stood against him were smoking husks and charred battlefields. His reign began with fire that never truly burned out. He was tired, tired of the blood and burning and screams that seemed to surround him since the moment he plucked his crown from Roland's cold sightless brow.

King Cedric the great surveyed his kingdom through a small window in the throne room. The village was mostly abandoned now. Burnt out buildings and overgrowth littered the once charming streets. Even the bridge to the castle had been destroyed by the townsfolk in a misguided attempt at sequestering him away from his subjects. But then who needed walkways when one had magic? Those who had not perished in one way or another had long since fled to other kingdoms offering sanctuary. If only they had given him a chance he thought longingly. He could have been a good king, he was sure of it. But none of that seemed to matter now. He was a ruler with nothing to rule. He turned and looked at the neglected room. Cobwebs were gathering in the corners and he realized it had been at least a month since he had last seen a servant. Had they all finally abandoned him as well?

He slowly made his way to his ebony throne, all that seemed to remain of the grandeur of the palace. When he first won the throne, he had worn all the trappings of royalty, but he never grew accustomed to them. He eventually went back to his sorcerer robes. His crown was somewhere, but he was disinclined to find the priceless symbol of all of his destruction. All the splendor in the world and too late to appreciate how isolating it all was. He sat down heavily with a sigh. It was amazing how his bones could feel as heavy as lead and as brittle as glass.

He was also restless. Being alone had always suited him but he found too long without human interaction could leave him a little more insane than he actually was. He drew out his family wand from the folds of his purple robe and flicked it slightly. A soft knock came from the heavy doors and he closed his eyes and let a sad smile play on his lips.

"Enter." His words echoed and died in the deserted hall.

A soft groan and the door swung open. There she was. The only thing that had every really mattered in this whole mess. She was breathtaking. Bedecked in a gown fit for a lady of her stature but still in her signature lilac, she seemed to herald spring wherever she went. Her auburn curls coiling over her shoulders down her demure shoulders. She had been sweet and beautiful as a child but as an adult she was ethereal.

Sofia.

"May I come in Cedric?" Her voice continued to chase away the emptiness inside his chest.

"Of course, you may my love."

She made her way across the grand room and sat softly before him and pillowing her head on her arms across his knee.

"I've missed you." She sighed.

"I've missed you also." He replied gently stroking her hair.

They sat this way for a time before her small hands crept up the inseam of his trousers, up his chest. She gave him a sly smile before she climbed onto his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. Winding her fingers into his hair she brought her small mouth onto his in a kiss that caused his frigid blood to boil. They made fast work of his mustard cravat and dropped it unceremoniously on the floor. He peppered her long neck and the tops of her breasts with kisses as she tore at the buttons of his shirt. His hands dug into her hips as she rocked against his manhood. He was rigid and ready with want of her. This dance of theirs, done hundreds of times never ceased to steal his breath.

Unwilling to waste more time without her he reached between them and stroked her through her underthings. Finding her as ready as himself he ripped apart the layers of fabric separating them and plunged into her. Her head fell back with a gasp. He pressed the side of his face against her heartbeat and began to move within her. She moaned and gripped his shoulders tightly trying to match his pace. She was warm and wet, she was his.

Their motions increased in tempo and he felt the telltale signs of her release beginning. Just the thought of this had Cedric driving himself toward his own release, praying to be there in the end with her. Over the thundering of their hearts, the heaving of their breathing and the wet sounds of their lovemaking Cedric was able to choke out the only thing currently on his mind.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," she panted back.

Cedric stilled all motion, relations forgotten, his heart snapping in two. He moved his hands to curl around her biceps and pulled her away from him. His expression melted into a sneer.

"No, you don't." He snarled and shoved her violently from him.

She tumbled down the stairs and he righted his garments, landing in an ungraceful heap of silk, satin and lace. She gingerly pushed herself up on her arms and turned to look at him. Pain and confusion distorted her features as he stood glaring at her in contempt. A single tear trickled down her cheek as her image wavered and then began to fade. She was soon no more substantial then the dust gathering on the floor. Cedric closed his eyes. He never wanted to see the moment she totally vanished. It made the situation all the more real.

He had developed an incredible skill for illusions since Sofia killed herself months earlier. He could make her look like her, smell like her, even act like her. But in the end, it never was her.

She was the catalyst of his plan. Festering, growing his love for the princess began shortly after she reached her majority. He couldn't remember the exact day that he realized he would do anything to be with her, but soon it became an all-encompassing thought. Those next few years she had been the reason he had stayed his hand when contemplating slaughtering the royal family. He would cause her no harm if he had any option. Then the announcement had come. Sofia was to be married and leave Enchancia. His plan had been formed out of desperate want. It didn't matter who her intended was. He couldn't allow her to leave. He needed her too much. The only way his crazed mind could puzzle out was if HE was king. He could stop this silly notion of her going away. Of course, if he slew Roland he should also remove the rest of the family leaving only Sofia, and if he married her they would inherit the throne. Only now could he see the absurdity of his plan.

He had concocted a clever potion to make her forget. She remembered who she was but all familial memories sailed away like leaves in the wing. The next part had been gaining her adoration. They were such good friends already it was a fairly simple matter of wooing her and persuading her to love him almost as much as he loved her. They wed and for a time, they had been blissfully happy.

Unfortunately, he could not get the rest of the world to see beyond his mutiny. He knew there would be anger and unrest, but he never anticipated the wrath that rained down upon him. His own subjects, other kingdoms, even other wizards came for revenge. He dealt with insurrections accordingly. If they would not love him for his power then they could fear him for it.

The most difficult duel had been the one with his parents and sister. They had thankfully left Calista out of it. Even his mother had been disgusted by his acts. He was irate at her hypocrisy. Hadn't she been the one that had encouraged him to take the throne this whole time? Just because it had taken some blood to attain that suddenly made him a monster? He had at least afforded those three a funeral. Which was much more than he had allowed other betrayers.

He had kept Sofia locked away in splendor. Her gilded cage of their private chambers was his refuge. He knew he couldn't keep her away from the gossip and truths of others so he quarantined her. Determined to keep the infection of his own actions from her ears. But dealing with the unrest he found himself needing to spend more and more time apart from her. He had assigned a veritable army of servants and soldiers to cater to her every whim and to keep her safe, all were under threats worse than death if they ever failed their queen in any way. But it hadn't been enough. Cracks began to form. Through will alone she was starting to remember. He would reenchant her every time he thought her smiles didn't reach her eyes or if she seemed confused or distraught. There had been no repairing the leaks in the dam. One day it burst.

When he entered his rooms instead of Sofia throwing herself into his arms, as was custom, she attacked. A snarling, biting, scratching banshee shrieking accusations and insults at him. He allowed this knowing it was justified. He held as she collapsed in exhaustion on the floor. Once she had sobbed herself to sleep he placed her in bed and left to find a solution. It was raining in thick curtains of water as he scoured books in his unused tower. He read late into the night and finally cobbled together a solution that seemed as if it would permanently solve their problem. He never had the chance to use it.

Pieces of that night would forever be scalded into his memory. The long curtains floating in the wind from their balcony. The carpet squishing beneath his boots from the rain blowing into the room. The empty bed. He felt as if he were floating, a phantom, as he moved to the window. Lightning revealed a small smudge of purple on the grey stones of the far below courtyard. Out of place but seemingly inconsequential. Cedric teleported down, a sense of dread growing in his mind.

She had even been beautiful in death. The rain softened the visual damage to her body so it looked as if she could be sleeping. He had gathered her delicately into his arms, her spoiled limbs grinding together. He brushed her sodden hair out of her face caressing her cheek. So soft, so fragile, so cold. A pin prick of ice lodged itself in Cedrics' heart and spread like illness through his body. His beautiful wife, his only love. The woman he had annihilated countless to keep. She. Was. Dead. He wasn't sure how long he wept and cursed the world and all who lived it in. But the rain had stopped and the sun had risen. Her amulet pulsed sickly, like a burning out star. He would destroy it later.

He had massacred all that he had assigned to her indiscriminately. He washed his pain in the blood of those sworn to keep and protect her. Nothing could fill the excruciating hole that had been slashed in his heart. Most of the remining staff had abandoned him at this point. The few that remained were likely the most cowardly. But based on the status of his home even they had worked up the courage recently to desert their posts. He was aware of time passing. He counted time by how many attempts were made on his life, little that it mattered anymore. He slew them more out of habit than desire to live.

He rarely left the throne room anymore and it showed. His already thin frame had become gaunt and his skin had reached a new level of pallor. The only other place he went with any frequency was where he was heading now. His footsteps echoed off the abandoned floor of the polished marble hallways. He reached a small alcove and walked through. A small courtyard bursting with flowers appeared. Lilac bushes mingled with lavender plants. Plum roses and violets perfumed the air. Wisteria dripped from every vertical surface. In the center of the space stood her monument. He had crafted it himself. A stone angel bearing her resemblance stood accusingly. Written lovingly at the base was an inscription.

Sofia

Beloved by All

He had been unable to think of a better epitaph. She had been loved by all that knew her, and he had killed her. He didn't deserve to be mentioned on her tomb. It had nearly killed him lowering her into the ground in her ornate coffin. It had been only him at her funeral. There was no one left to mourn. He sank to his knees, humbled by the place. He felt her most strongly here these days. The last bits of her lingering in the flowers and the wind. Days passed when he would not leave this place. He sat there now as the sun moved across the sky. He searched for answers that would never come.

He felt rather than heard the newest assassin approaching. They were coming in far greater numbers these days. Their corpses littered the gardens and the palace. A single word could have ended this attempt as well, but Cedric paused. What was the point? Why continue this charade any longer, hadn't he really already been dead since her heart had stopped its beating? He considered this. It was not a terrible place to die. He was with her now and could hope that his life would completely give out before they decided whatever gruesome fate awaited his body. The man behind him had a sword and by the way he was moving Cedric could tell he was well trained. Yes, it would be a quick death, frankly more than he deserved. So, he chose to remain sitting.

He felt the impact before his body registered the pain. The blade shuttered as it forced its way through tissue and muscle. Cedric coughed at the weapon's intrusion and blood coated his lips. "Ah the lung." He thought ruefully. Not so quick then. He grunted slightly as sword withdrew from him, the metal squealing as it ground through a rib. His body slumped to the ground on its side still allowing him sight of her grave. Breathing was already becoming difficult as he felt his lung filling with gore. He managed to raise a shaking arm to reach out and touch the cold stone. His fingertips traced delicate small patterns on the granite.

Somewhere on the edge of his consciousness he heard cheering. Apparently, the knight had not been a solitary conqueror. Let them celebrate, he wondered if they too, would find power as hollow as he had learned it was. Darkness was creeping into the edges of his vision, and he was glad. Perhaps he would be allowed a little rest before whatever torment awaited him in the afterlife began. He wondered if he would see her? A silent witness to his crimes, watching as demons ripped at his flesh. No, he decided. No matter what he had done to her, Sofia was too pure. She would likely argue for lenience against him if she was able. He would never and had never deserved her goodness. He had only stolen it for a short time.

Tears mingled with the blood dripping from his mouth and he tried to apologize to the ashen angel before him. He wanted to confess all his crimes and beg forgiveness from the only one that had ever really mattered to him. But he didn't even have energy to move his lips any longer. The grass was soft beneath his cheek and the warm breeze ruffled his hair. No, this was not such a terrible place to die. He felt his eyelids drooping but used every last ounce of his strength to keep them open. Her name would be the last thing he would see before he was cast into hell. It would help him endure his eternal torment. Sound left him, as did the pain. His senses slowly shutting down. He could feel his heart's sluggish beat slowing. But her name remained. His love, his light in the dark.

Sofia.

His world went dark thus ending the short reign of King Cedric the Great.

The end.


End file.
